I realize I've been standing there for far too long, staring like a complete creep. My cheeks heat up, and before I can talk myself out of it, I slide open Zane's door and walk right in.
"If I was an assassin, bang—you're dead," I say, pointing my finger at him like a gun.
That finally gets his attention. Zane's eyes snap to mine, those vibrant green eyes lighting up in recognition. For some reason, the way he looks at me makes me feel self-conscious. There's a flicker of warmth in his gaze that sends my heart racing, though I can't quite explain why.
In typical Zane fashion, he makes a dramatic show of clutching his chest, stumbling back in mock agony, and falling to the ground.
"Don't be an idiot," I mutter, rolling my eyes at his exaggerated performance, but I can't help the small smile tugging at my lips. He's still on the floor, leaning up on one elbow, grinning like a fool.
"What brings my dear siren here at—" he checks the time, his brows lifting slightly, "3:50 AM? Come to drag me to my doom?" His smile is teasing, boyish, and far too charming for my liking.
I narrow my eyes at him, feeling a surge of frustration at myself. Why am I noticing these things about him? Lately, I can't seem to stop. It's infuriating, especially because this is Zane—my obnoxious, cocky friend. And yet, here I am, standing in his room at almost 4 AM, letting my thoughts wander to places they shouldn't.
"What are you, a pirate?" I ask, trying to hide my own smile.
Zane chuckles, his laughter filling the small room as he pushes himself off the floor and towers over me. He's too close now, close enough that I have to tilt my head up to meet his eyes.
"What, I don't look like one?" he asks, the playful gleam still in his eyes.
I laugh despite myself, shaking my head. "Not even close."
His chuckle fades, and I take the opportunity to move over to the table where the holographic screens are still displaying images. Data flickers in front of me—graphs, charts, reports I don't fully understand. I glance back at Zane, curious.
"So, why are you still up?" I ask, running my fingers over the edge of the table as I take in the sheer volume of information displayed.
At that, Zane lets out a groan, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Work," he sighs. "One of my companies had an accident—an explosion. I'm trying to assess the damage and figure out what went wrong, making sure it doesn't happen again."
There's something in his voice as he says it—an edge, a tightness that wasn't there before. His green eyes darken for a moment, anger flickering behind them. It's subtle, but I notice.
Before I can say anything, though, Zane shakes it off, turning back to me with that easy grin.
"Anyway, what are you doing wandering around at this hour?" He powers off the holograms with a quick swipe, plunging the room into a soft, dim glow.
I shrug. "I woke up starving, so I made something to eat."
At that, Zane's eyes brighten again, a mischievous glint returning. "Care to have some company?"
I pretend to think about it, tapping my chin dramatically. "Hmmm... I don't know…"
Zane steps closer, clasping his hands together in mock desperation.
"Pretty please?" His voice is soft, teasing, and I hate how easily he's breaking through my defenses.
I roll my eyes, but I'm already smiling. "Fine, but don't think I'm going easy on you because you asked nicely."
He grins wide, that boyish smile making me feel a little too warm inside. "Wouldn't dream of it."
With that, we head out of his room, the comfortable silence between us lingering as we walk back to mine. It's strange—how easy this is, how natural it feels to be around Zane, even when everything inside me is a confusing mess of emotions. I glance over at him as we walk, catching the way his eyes flicker with amusement.
I wonder if he feels it too—this strange shift between us, this magnetic pull I've been trying so hard to ignore. But for now, I push those thoughts aside and focus on the moment, knowing that whatever this is, it's something I'm going to have to face eventually. But not tonight.